chapter 7

Adira Floris did not raise her voice often. She didn't need to. When she wanted something, the temperature in the room simply dropped a few degrees, and everyone within earshot understood they had exactly one chance to give her the right answer.

"I want to see the girl," she said, swirling the dark liquid in her glass without looking up.

Heinz Floris, eldest son, the supposed responsible one, went very still.

"Is there a problem," Adira continued, voice smooth as poured silk, "or is there no such thing as your girlfriend, Mr. Heinz Floris?"

Heinz's face did something complicated—somewhere between panic and prayer.

"ANSWER ME."

"S-sorry, mom," he stammered, all pretense of composure gone.

Adira set her glass down with a click that seemed to echo far louder than it should have. "You're getting married too, then. I'll find someone for you myself."

"MOM, NO—"

"You want me to repeat myself?" Her voice sharpened, and both of her sons—because Elison had wandered close enough to be caught in the blast radius—physically flinched and scrambled toward her like children awaiting punishment, though neither of them would ever admit that out loud.

"Same," Heinz croaked, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother in silent solidarity.

Adira studied them both for a long moment before turning her attention back to her eldest. "So. Where is your girlfriend, Heinz?"

"Uh—mom. She's, um. She's in her house."

"Oh, really?" A slow, dangerous smile. "Bring her home tomorrow, then."

"WHAT?" Heinz nearly choked. "I mean—why, mom?"

He never got an answer, because at that exact moment, Adira's hand had already found the nearest sharp object on the side table—a decorative blade that had absolutely no business being decorative—and she flung it in his direction with the casual precision of someone swatting a fly.

"DODG—" Elison started to warn, but it was too late.

"Huh?" Azhael, who had wandered into the room at the worst possible second, caught sight of the blade a half-breath too late and tripped over his own feet trying to avoid it.

"*catch Azhael* Heyy~" Heinz lunged, arms out, snatching his brother's best friend out of the air before he could hit the floor.

Adira was on her feet in an instant, rushing over with genuine alarm written across her face. "Are you okay, dear? I thought it was Heinz—I didn't mean to throw it at you."

Azhael straightened himself out, brushing off his jacket with practiced nonchalance. "I'm okay, Mrs. Floris."

"Stop calling me Mrs. Floris," she said immediately, waving a dismissive hand. "Call me Aunty."

Azhael only smiled in response, the kind of smile that gave nothing away.

Heinz, still recovering from having nearly been impaled, cleared his throat pointedly. "Where's my thank you?" he whispered, leaning toward Azhael.

The response came in the form of an elbow straight to his stomach.

"Ouch—that hurt," Heinz wheezed, doubling over.

"Deserved," Azhael said sweetly, not even bothering to look guilty about it.

Adira, entirely unbothered by the violence unfolding beside her, settled herself into the nearest chair like a queen surveying her court. "Both of you. Come here."

Elison and Heinz exchanged a wide-eyed look.

"We're dead," Elison muttered.

"Definitely," Heinz agreed.

---

By the time evening properly settled over the estate, Adira had regrouped, and her curiosity had shifted targets entirely.

"Hm," she said, staring at Heinz with narrowed eyes.

"Mom, listen..." Heinz started carefully.

"I'm listening."

He took a breath. "Actually. I like someone."

"Another lie?"

"No, mom, I swear I'm telling the truth this time."

Adira's fingers drifted toward the same decorative blade from earlier, now recovered and returned to its place on the table, as though it were an old and trusted friend. "Who?" she asked, voice deceptively light.

Heinz swallowed hard, then pointed—directly at Azhael, who had the profound misfortune of standing nearby, minding his own business.

The room went very quiet.

"Azhael," Adira said slowly, turning toward him with an expression that could not be read. "Do you like him?"

"Aunty, how can I like him?" Azhael sputtered, gesturing wildly at Heinz. "He is you—"

"I don't care if he's my son or not," Adira interrupted smoothly. "I've always considered you as my own son too."

There was a beat of silence.

"I don't like him," Azhael said flatly.

Adira's gaze snapped to Heinz. "Are you serious?"

"Yes... mom," Heinz managed, sweat visibly beading at his temple.

"All the best, then," she said, rising gracefully from her chair. "If you're lying to me again, I won't stop Elison." And with that final, chilling piece of information delivered as casually as a weather report, she swept out of the room.

The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds before Elison turned his full attention onto his older brother.

Heinz, sensing the shift in atmosphere, instinctively pulled Azhael closer to his own side, as though using him as a human shield. "Mom, it's one-sided," he said quickly, desperately.

"I will kill him today," Elison announced, with all the calm conviction of a man discussing dinner plans.

"CALM DOWN. I'M YOUR OLDER BROTHER."

"I don't fucking care." Elison's hand was already closing around another blade—there seemed to be an endless, almost suspicious supply of them lying around this house—and Heinz's eyes went wide with genuine terror.

"Elison, stop," Adira called from somewhere down the hall, without even turning around.

"But mo—"

Whatever protest Elison meant to make was cut off by his own decision to hurl the knife anyway.

"WHAT THE FUCK," Azhael shouted, ducking on instinct.

The blade sailed past Heinz's ear as he threw himself sideways. "*dodge* What th—"

"How dare you," Elison hissed, "drag Azhael into your mess."

"Lis—" Heinz tried.

"Azhael," Adira called, reappearing in the doorway with sudden, sharp interest. "Is Heinz telling the truth?"

Azhael didn't hesitate. "No, ma'a—Aunty."

"*Bitch—*" Heinz muttered under his breath, utterly betrayed.

Elison, satisfied with the verdict, straightened his collar as though the entire altercation had never happened. He fixed his brother with one final, ice-cold look.

"Stay away from Azhael," he said.

Heinz opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"..." was all that came out, followed by nothing but a long, defeated silence, and somewhere in the background, the faint, satisfied click of Adira Floris settling back into her chair, thoroughly entertained by the chaos she had, once again, orchestrated entirely on purpose.